


A Night to Remember

by The1stHarbinger



Category: Merlin (TV)
Genre: Alternate Universe - High School, Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, Fluff and Angst, M/M, Prom
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-07-22
Updated: 2017-07-22
Packaged: 2018-12-05 15:15:00
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,216
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11580687
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/The1stHarbinger/pseuds/The1stHarbinger
Summary: Merlin and Arthur go to prom together. At least, that was the plan.





	A Night to Remember

"Red or blue?"  
  
"Hmm. Did he say what he was wearing, by any chance? Oh, wouldn't it just be  _darling_  if you two matched?"  
  
Merlin grimaced. "Darling is not the term I'd use. And please, for the love of God, don't say anything like that in front of him when we get back. Please."  
  
Nerves were wracking his body as it was, like starving ants who had just spotted a dropped piece of cracker. He really didn't need his mother to make this any more embarrassing than it was already going to be – it _was_  Merlin, after all – even though he did understand it was only coming from mother-henning side of her, who had never met one of Merlin's boyfriends before. Which might've had something to do with the fact that he'd never had one.  
  
(Not that he and Arthur were boyfriends. Obviously. This was the first time they'd even be going out together.  
  
Merlin wondered at the brilliance of that plan and tried very hard to convince himself there was no need for them to have gotten to know each other a bit better first, and nothing about this night could possibly turn out that awkward. Probably.)  
  
"You know I'm just excited, love. You've never had a boy here before." Hunith winked in an entirely too suggestive manner than Merlin was comfortable with.  
  
"Maybe I just haven't the time for that kind of thing, seeing as I've been so focused on my studies this year," he defended. This was, of course, a load of crock and they both knew it, but thankfully his mother also knew when to let well enough alone. "Anyway, you still didn't say. Red or blue?"  
  
Hunith paused from her relentless (and pointless) fussing over his ridiculous and traitorously rebellious hair long enough to stare scrutinizingly at the ties, in which an equal analyzation was allotted to each.  
  
Finally she declared, "The blue one. It will make your eyes pop, trust me."  
  
Again, with the winking.  
  
Later, he and his mother stood in front of the floor length mirror, examining the result of an entire afternoon spent preparing for the night to come. It was still surreal, the suddenness that was him going to prom. He hadn't planned to until just yesterday when out of nowhere (at least, that was what it felt like to him), the gorgeous and formerly unattainable Arthur Pendragon had asked him to be his date.   
  
(That was the basics of what happened, anyway. Arthur had proved to be more endearingly adorable and lovably awkward than Merlin previously thought possible.)  
  
Hunith's teary-eyed blubbering brought him back to the present. "Oh, just look at you. I can't believe my baby's going to the prom." She sniffed and started to dab lightly at her eyes with her fingertips in an attempt to not ruin the mascara she'd already applied.

Merlin groaned internally. “Why are you crying, mom? Finally something exciting is happening to me!” he said lightly, but the humor fell flat.

He was abruptly crushed in a surprisingly strong pair of arms. Hunith buried her face in Merlin’s shoulder. “You know how I get,” she said, her voice muffled by the fabric.

Merlin could only try to clumsily comfort her as best he could, seeing as she'd pinned his arms to his sides. “Okay, okay,” he laughed, trying to shrug her off after a few long moments. “You can let go now.”

Hunith did let go, taking a step back. He tried not to shift and fidget as she appraised him once more. He was wearing one of his father’s old suits. He could only imagine what she felt about seeing Merlin in it.

“It's perfect.” She clapped her hands together and smiled broadly, catching her son’s eye. “You’ll be quite the catch.”

“You know, mom, if you keep twitching your eye like that, it’ll get stuck that way,” Merlin drawled. He couldn't help the way his lips quirked in a small smile, though.

Hunith only waved a hand, muttering, “Nonsense. Now, I have to go get ready, and I should probably fix up this mess,” she gestured to her eyes (and more specifically the smudges of her makeup). “Do you think you’ll be all right? I'd be perfectly happy to stay home and see you off, you know.”

Merlin was shaking his head emphatically before she'd even finished speaking. “No, mom. No way. I'll be fine, promise.” He grinned, and he was surprised at how genuine it was, despite his nerves. “You go have fun.”

Hunith sighed theatrically, leaning in one more time to peck his cheek. “Look at my boy, all grown up.”

Merlin had to agree that he was maturing. He didn't even feel a very strong urge to wipe the kiss off. “Yep. Now  _go._  Please. Everything’s fine here.”

“Oh, all right.” Hunith smiled once more and then she left his room.

Merlin was relieved. His mother had planned for days that she would go out with her friends tonight, to let loose and enjoy herself for once. The unexpectedness of Merlin actually going to the prom had thrown them both for a loop. But he had refused to let her cancel her night out, even for something as exceptional as this.

Hunith worked hard as a nurse, trying to provide as a single parent for her family, which pretty much only consisted of Merlin. She deserved to have some fun for a change.

He himself planned to. Well, he hoped to. His mother’s voice was suddenly in his head, telling him of the power of positive thinking.

Right.

They both clearly  _needed_ to get out more.

Half an hour later had Hunith calling up the stairs that she was on her way out and telling Merlin to have fun.

“You too!” he called back. He heard the front door open and shut and watched from his window as his mother got in her car (the only one they could afford), and drove off.

And then it was just a matter of waiting.

Arthur said he would pick Merlin up a 6:30 and they would have dinner together before they went to the dance. Just thinking about it made Merlin giddy, his stomach doing odd little flips. A guy had never even looked twice at him before, and now he would be going to prom with the hottest boy in school. If he didn't know any better, he'd think he was dreaming.

It was almost too good to be true.

Ten minutes til he was supposed to be picked up, he bounded down the stairs and thought it wouldn't be such a bad idea to have a glass of water. Then he thought he should probably relieve himself, so not even a nervous bladder could ruin the night. One never could be too careful.

Then all Merlin could do was stare at the clock above the kitchen table intently, twitching irritably as the minutes ticked by at such a sluggish pace, he was almost positive that the minute hand was trying to mock him.

6:30 came and passed without a change, and Merlin told himself not to be worried. Who ever came  _on the dot_? He reasoned ‘fashionably late’ was more likely the approach Arthur would take, anyhow.

A further agonizing fifteen minutes had gone by, and now Merlin was admittedly apprehensive. He decided he would wait out on his front porch, just in case Arthur happened to be lost. Five minutes later and he started to feel like an idiot for just standing there, in front of the door, wearing a suit and tie, fidgeting with the hem of his jacket.

So Merlin pulled out the outdoor garden chair they'd always had but never seemed to use from behind a shrub and settled on it to wait, despite how uncomfortable it really was. No wonder they'd never used it.

His mind drifted after several more minutes, and he didn't know how long he sat out there, pathetic and pitiful, his hope dwindling with each passing second, before even the weather turned against him and, without warning, it started to pour.

With a yelp Merlin would never admit had come from him, he scrambled out of the chair gracelessly and raced back to the front door, sliding and tripping at least twice over his own two left feet. And because the world hated him – he clearly must have committed some heinous grievance in his past life – the door was locked and  _of course_ the door was locked, it always did that, he'd  _known_ it did that so why wasn't he ever prepared for the ridiculousness that was his life?

The answer was, because he was an idiot. It was obvious he was an idiot because  _hah,_  no one in their right mind would go to prom with Merlin, it was practically social suicide, and certainly no boy like Arthur Pendragon. He should have known, it was so apparent that this was just like what happened in those stupid movies. Just another popular guy asking out the oblivious nerd who was so infatuated with him, she couldn't see what was right in front of her until she was left with no choice  _but_  to see because the guy had stood her up and it would be the joke of the entire year. That was  _exactly_ what it was, and Merlin (the oblivious nerd in this scenario) had fallen for it because he had, in fact, been infatuated.

The worst part was that he hadn't in a million years seen this coming, because he'd honestly believed Arthur was actually rather sweet and charming for all that he was also a prat. Arthur had always been pleasant to Merlin when they sat together during physics. He'd thought he had enjoyed Merlin’s company as much as Merlin enjoyed his. Or, well, more than he had to consider humiliating Merlin in this way.

It shouldn't have been as surprising as it was, that this was what it had all led up to. All this time, Arthur had seen right through Merlin. It must've been hilarious to watch Merlin get dragged along like a besotted puppy, eating right out of Arthur’s hands until he would ultimately let him starve. One last laugh at the moronic science maniac, who had wrongly believed he could actually be liked by someone (who was not his mom); who even dared to think, who had the audacity to believe he could  _ever_ be wanted by  _anyone,_ let alone an untouchable like Arthur. Arthur, who was so far up the social ladder Merlin couldn't even see him from where he had yet to get his foot on the first rung.

Merlin made himself plop down under the slight overhang, his only protection from the rain (if you could call it that), and resolved to wait for his mother to get home, no matter how shameful and humiliating that encounter was going to be. Just because his night had been destined to be ruined before it had even begun, it didn't mean he was going to mess up her’s as well.

As lightning lit up the sky and thunder crackled (belatedly) ominously, Merlin felt tears trickle down his cheeks, mingling with the warm drops of rain. It hurt to think about how he would explain this to his mom. He could already see the pity, the anger on his behalf. She would have this whole speech prepared about how it wasn't him – he’d heard it enough times – and she would lovingly declare that, really, he was a catch and probably genuinely believe it, too.

Merlin loved that about her, but it didn't change the fact he’d heard it so many times already without much to show for it. He would still nod and pretend he was okay, though, even while he recognized the irrecoverable blow to his self-worth.

He leaned against the wall in an attempt to get more comfortable, closing his eyes. Maybe it wasn't too much to hope that unconsciousness would relieve the ache in his chest, if only for a moment.

 

 

 

_“Merlin.”_

Uncontrollable shivers were wracking Merlin’s body when he finally came to, an unidentifiable heat pulsing on his neck, below his ear. This also was the place some force was shaking him from. Groggy and confused, he finally was able to pry his eyes open.

It was still raining by the sound of  _drip drip drip_ ping on the pavement, noticeably lighter now though, and it was darker out too, the sun dipping below the horizon. He didn't think he wanted to know what time it was.

“Merlin.”

Merlin focused on the figure in front of him, and found himself staring into the concerned eyes of Arthur Pendragon. Ah. Dreaming then. Not even here could he escape the boy.

After a moment he realized that the heat he was feeling at his neck was Arthur’s palm, gripping gently but firmly. And it felt distinctly real. Merlin squinted up at him.

“Arthur?”

Arthur tried to smile, but it looked more like a grimace to Merlin. Now that he was really looking at him, Arthur appeared to be just as soaked as Merlin currently felt. His blond hair clung to his forehead, darker than usual because of the wet.

“What are you doing out here, Merlin? You should've stayed inside.” Arthur’s voice was low and reproachful, and Merlin couldn't understand how this boy, who was usually so big, strong, and golden could look so cold, small, and miserable.

“The door’s locked,” Merlin said blankly, unsure of the question. Why was Arthur here, kneeling in front of him like that? Shouldn't he be at the prom, dancing and laughing with his friends, crowing about how well he’d played Merlin?

Arthur chuckled humorlessly. “Looks like the universe is against the both of us, then.”

“What do you mean?” Merlin tried to ask without emotion, but it came out more hurt and dejected than he would’ve liked.

Arthur really looked at him then and Merlin quickly grew antsy at the intensity of his too-blue eyes. “God, Merlin, I'm so sorry.” He hung his head, and Merlin found he actually missed looking into his eyes. Christ, what was wrong with him? Must've been the cold.

“What for?” Merlin asked, and this was one of those times he wished his mouth and his brain could agree on something and  _just shut up._

Arthur looked at him again, his expression pained. “I want you to know that I didn't stand you up.”

Merlin opened his mouth, about to deny that he would  _ever think that, haha, what?_ but he closed his mouth. It would be a lie, and they both knew it.

“Look,” Arthur swallowed. “I was on my way when my father, he… he wanted to talk to me about some things, yeah? It's not important really, but he kept me a long time, and he’s my father so I can't exactly tell him to shut up, but… I mean, I was only going to be a few minutes late, I swear. But then my damn car broke down, my phone was dead, and I got lost at least three times trying to walk to the flower shop. I was trying to buy you, um…” he cleared his throat, “... as an apology. Anyway, when I finally got there I realized I left my  _stupid_ wallet in my car, which I have left on the side of the road somewhere and really, I've just been trying to get to you to let you know I'm not actually an asshat, but because it somehow  _can_ get even worse, it starts to – _mmph._ ”

Merlin didn't know what he was doing, had been quite certain that he would not be the one to make the first move, but he was a sucker who apparently judged  _much_ too quickly.

Arthur’s lips were cold and chapped and absolutely perfect. Merlin’s head started to spin when he thought about it, about how this was  _Arthur_ he was kissing, like nothing he could have imagined, but still somehow  _better_.

But that was nothing compared to what it felt like with Arthur kissing him back, opening his mouth, all hot and soft and wonderful. Merlin’s world was smaller suddenly, narrowed to this one moment, this press of lips and sharing of breaths. It was unfamiliar and new, of course it was, it wasn't like he'd ever kissed anyone else before. It was nothing like him practicing on the back of his hand or, on more than one memorable occasion, the poster he had of a young Hugh Jackman.

He swayed, his fingers finding the wet fabric of Arthur’s suit jacket, as if that would keep him upright even though he was already sitting. And then Arthur’s hands found his hair – which was really great actually, and highly recommended – his fingers digging into the wet locks until Merlin’s head was tilted back, completely willing, and suddenly everything changed. And if Merlin loved this new angle, then he was positively delighted by the tongue that was added. He whimpered unashamedly, pressing closer to the warm solidness that was Arthur’s body, trying to chase away the cold of the oncoming night. Merlin sucked lightly on Arthur’s tongue because it was there and because he could, and also because he wasn't really able to process whether it would be a good idea or not.

It was an amazing idea, as it turned out. Arthur emitted a low moan, and Merlin had never been so turned on by a sound like that in his life. They kissed and kissed, Merlin forgetting everything, not caring about some stupid dance or how ridiculous he probably looked, like a drenched and overly gangly cat clinging to a big, handsome dog.

It was messy, which was only to be expected. But Arthur didn't seem to care about Merlin’s inexperience and so neither did Merlin. He followed Arthur’s lead, wherever he wanted to take him, his fingers being pulled like they were tethered to the heat of Arthur’s skin, finding their way up Arthur’s jacket, playing with his collar, over his delectable collarbones (though Merlin thought fairly that every part of Arthur was probably rather delectable) and up until they could tangle in the hair at the nape of Arthur’s neck.

But then Arthur was pulling away and Merlin was swallowing an embarrassing whine of protest. He couldn't make himself let go of Arthur, though, not yet. Thankfully, Arthur had no intention of letting him go either, his arms wrapped loosely about Merlin’s waist. Merlin wasn't sure when they'd got there, but he wasn't complaining.

“I take it I'm forgiven?” Arthur asked breathlessly, his grin doing  _things_ to Merlin’s stomach.

Merlin rolled his eyes, but grinned right back. If this was how he'd be spending his prom night, he couldn't say he minded. And, okay, maybe the universe wasn't really out to get them. “I suppose.”

Arthur surged forward, claiming Merlin’s lips in another heated kiss. Merlin gasped, tightening his grip on the back of Arthur’s neck.

They stayed like that until Hunith came home, and the confrontation was a whole lot less shameful and humiliating than he thought it would be, but also profoundly embarrassing.

But at least he had someone to share that embarrassment with.


End file.
